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Ol Men, Brollies and Mem'ries

Little old men ‘neath big black Bumbershoots Meandering about in the soft Spring rain Savoring the mornin’ air and mayhaps... Recalling their youth once again The very air seems a blanket Woven in lace, imbued with a trace Of morning mist that insists On caressing one’s face With the tender touch Of a maiden fair Seems the rain That is wrapped In the air That gives the old men pause To peer all about As if to see now…what once was And now is without Yet the rain stays the same In it’s soothing refrain And the old men with their brollies Rheumy eyes and mem’ries Remain meandering about… …In the soft Springtime rain…

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




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